


Daffodils

by UnfortunatelyObsessed



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Crack, Hanahaki Disease, Happy Ending, M/M, Yes it really is both
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 22:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20089912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnfortunatelyObsessed/pseuds/UnfortunatelyObsessed
Summary: When the antichrist goes through an anime phase, things don't quite go as planned.ORThe One Where Flowers Are For The Grave





	Daffodils

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aloha_cowgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aloha_cowgirl/gifts).

> Hanahaki disease: a fictional disease wherein flowers grow in the lungs of anyone who has an unrequited love

"Soooo... Tentacle porn?" Dean said, eyebrows raised.

Sam shot him a bitch face. "We don't know yet, alright? Just... Cas said something's changed in the world."

"Yeah? Alright, well, I guess if that antichrist kid really is going through an anime phase then--" Dean cut himself off with a deep cough, "then it could be anything. Let's hope for boob physics."

\---

Sam stared around the park, face red and hand covering his mouth.

"Boob physics," Dean repeated triumphantly, watching as pair after pair rippled in the evening breeze.

"I was unaware that breasts had their own physics," Castiel said, suddenly beside him.

Dean jumped. "Gotta quit sneaking up on me like that, Cas," Dean said, coughing slightly.

Cas squinted at him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. You figure out what all's different?"

Cas raised an eyebrow, glancing pointedly at the gravity-defying, female-presenting boobs.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Besides that."

"Stay away from large vines."

Dean grinned at Sam. "Called it."

"I really don't need to know about how bad you want to go near a vine right now, Dean," Sam said, face even redder than before.

Cas put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Don't worry. We'll fix this soon. It's nothing we can't handle."

Castiel smiled softly, and Dean hung his head low and stifled his coughs.

\---

"The crime rate against girls with pink hair has tremendously increased," Sam told Dean back at the motel, staring at his laptop screen.

"It's 'cause they're the main characters, Sammy."

"Ya know, I really never thought your anime knowledge would ever come in handy."

Dean tossed his hands up, smirking. "I'm full of surprises."

Sam glanced at the table as his phone buzzed. "Oh, hey. Cas is calling." He put it on speaker absently, scrolling through more articles. "Cas."

"Sam. The general attractiveness of vampires has increased tenfold."

Dean snorted. "Hey, Cas."

And there was a softer edge to his voice when he responded, "Hello, Dean."

Sam talked to Castiel more as Dean exited the motel room and walked far away from the stairs, into a nearby cove of trees.

He fell on his knees and coughed, and coughed, and coughed, until red specks dotted the leaf litter.

A vine wrapped around his ankle and he kicked it away. "Not right now, buddy," he gasped out, staggering out of the trees.

\---

"There's so much backstabbing," Dean whispered to no one in particular as he watched his two favorite mom blogs duke it out.

Castiel sat down beside him, leaning in close enough that Dean could smell the ozone on him. "She's your favorite, right?"

Dean's throat was aching, so he nodded instead.

"Then I hope she wins."

Dean shoved the phone at Cas, barely making it to the bathroom before he was coughing and hacking, water turning pink then red then maroon. He gasped in breath after breath, only to have it forced out of him again.

"Dean!" he could vaguely hear Castiel saying, hands on his back.

Dean pushed him out of the small bathroom, closing the door and locking it just as what he dreaded most crawled up his throat.

He ripped a single blue daffodil out of his lungs, roots and all.

"I didn't know they even came in blue," he whispered, voice ragged and hoarse.

He thumped his head back against the door, refusing to think about what he now knew.

Castiel knocked on the door softly, and a tear slipped out, unbidden.

\---

Castiel had a vase of blue daffodils, because there was nothing else Dean could do with them.

Cas was suspicious, he knew. So was Sam. But this whole thing would blow over soon, anyways.

Until then, he just had to deal with the goddamned aching in his lungs.

His alveoli itched.

It had been a few days before Sam cornered him, alone.

"Talk."

"Gotta be more specific there, tiger," Dean said, eyebrow raised.

"Something's going on with you. Something bad."

"Nothing is going on with me, Sam!"

"Then why do you run away every time Cas is near?!"

Dean coughed slightly and his heart rate spiked. "We can't talk about this."

Sam huffed, arms crossed. "No, _you_ refuse to talk about it! About your damn feelings for him! Just man up and talk to--"

And Dean was on the ground, curled up, and hacking his fucking lungs up.

Sam was beside him, eyes wide and panicked as petals came up, then blood, until finally, three blue daffodils.

When Dean could breathe again, he just shook silently in Sam's arms.

"What--?"

"It's called Hanahaki disease, alright? Just... leave it alone. This'll all blow over soon." His voice was a ghost within itself.

"And if it doesn't?"

Dean didn't respond.

\---

Dean stopped breathing on a Thursday.

Cas had found out. Of course Cas had found out. And he had researched and researched until he knew the name, knew the cause, knew the cure.

"Just _tell_ them!" Cas was yelling at him, eyes blazing. "You really aren't going to at least _try?!_ When that could solve everything?!"

And Dean wished Castiel would stop looking at him, because he could feel leaves pressing into his trachea.

"You're impossible," Castiel grumbled as his phone rang. He answered it quickly, glaring at Dean for good measure. "Yes?"

And it was Claire, and she was panicked and coughing and begging Castiel to tell her what was going on.

"Don't move," he told Dean, and then he was gone.

Dean sat down on the floor, head in his hands, focused on his breathing. Because he could feel the sharp stings of roots burrowing out, finally out, into diaphragm and stomach and intestines. Petals filled up his lungs, piece by piece, until they stuck to the back of his throat.

"You," Dean whispered with what little air he had left. "It was you."

And he was coughing hard, but it didn't hurt anymore. His lungs were numb. He could feel flowers forcing their way past his lips, and his coughs were no longer making any sound.

Blood trickled down the stems onto his chin, his shirt, the floor.

His lungs screamed, but he couldn't.

"You idiot," he heard a voice say somewhere far away. There were soft lips against his cheek, and that same voice within his ear, shakily, "It was always you, too."

And a final cough forced the flowers out, left Dean gasping for air as roots withered within him.

Castiel's face unblurred, red-eyed and bawling. "Dean," he mouthed.

"Cas?" Dean tried to say, but his voice was gone. Maybe it would always be gone, now.

And there were lips against his, soft and sweet. "You idiot," Castiel repeated.

"Claire--"

"She's fine," Castiel mouthed against his lips. "Everyone is fine now." He kissed him, gently. "How long?"

Dean's eyes were closed, and Castiel's breath caressed his cheek. "Forever, and for always."

Castiel blinked back tears, finally pulling away to look at the carnage. "I hate these flowers," he told Dean quietly.

"That's a shame, Cas." Dean gave him a small smile.  
"They match your eyes."


End file.
